Are You My Secret Santa?
by PlotBunnyWranglers
Summary: It was that time of year where gifts are secretly exchanged with her co-workers. As each gift becomes more and more personal, she wonders who she should hug or junkpunch?


**Happy Holidays everyone, and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! Cheers!**

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><p>When I was a little girl, I absolutely loved Christmas. Even after my parents divorced, I still looked forward to it with great anticipation. Every other year, I would head up to Forks to spend the whole school break with my dad, where occasionally, it would even snow. Not that I didn't enjoy the holidays in Phoenix with my mom, but once you've experienced Christmas away from the desert, it never quite feels the same again. Yet there were always things to enjoy in each place; namely, the way my mom and dad each made it fun and special, so I wouldn't concentrate on how much I missed the parent who wasn't there.<p>

With my mother, we had the same artificial tree for years, and it was one that you had to attach individual branches to the pole in the center. It was tedious, so she made a game out of it for me. We took turns putting it together each year, trying to beat the other's previous record from the Christmas before. Once done, we'd decorate it together.

My dad, on the other hand, was more of a traditionalist, and that was part of what made Christmas fun with him. He always waited until I arrived for my visit with him, and we would go out to the tree lot, where I got to pick out two trees. One that was full and lush for the living room, and because of my obsession with A Charlie Brown Christmas since I was little, one sad, lonely tree that no one else wanted for my room.

Very simply, I loved the holidays for so many reasons growing up. However, the last few had somehow lost their luster.

At seventeen, I lost my mom and went to live with Dad, who bless his heart, understood that Christmas just wouldn't feel the same for me that year and didn't press the matter. I tried to put on my brave face and keep my mood as light as possible for him, but I ended up crying myself to sleep in his arms on the couch that first holiday season without her.

The following year, I met Edward Cullen, and for the first time since she passed, I felt more than momentary flickers of happiness. He made me laugh and smile effortlessly, but despite us starting to date in October, even he couldn't completely distract me once Christmastime rolled around again. It was the first year my mother wasn't there for one that I would have been spending with her in Phoenix. Yet, on the same token, it was also my moment of closure. She was gone and I would always miss her, but I needed to continue to live.

As time passed, coping wasn't as difficult for me, though being a teenage girl without a mother to turn to for advice was never easy. However, I started to embrace the good things going on in my life as well. I was going to be graduating from high school and about to embark on my first semester of college in the coming fall. I was in the throes of my first and deeply passionate love with the man who became my best friend and soul mate. I was finally happy again, despite the knowledge that he would be leaving soon for Basic Training.

That's right. The man I fell in love with had enlisted in the Army, and rather than being devastated by this, I was exceedingly proud of him.

That particular Christmas wasn't _horrible_. Edward came home on leave, and I focused more on spending time with my dad than I had the year before, but it also held a slight tinge of sadness. It held the prospect of another goodbye to the man I loved once the holidays were over. We both knew that we were each other's forever, but I at least wanted my Associate's Degree before we signed the dotted line of a marriage certificate, and Edward agreed.

Though I did have a diamond ring gracing my left hand before he stepped back onto that plane.

The following year was much the same. Christmas came and went methodically, except for Edward's visit home, and that in itself was bothersome and saddening. I was more concerned about preparing myself for my final semester in school and ironing out details for our wedding in June. And Christmas felt like just another day.

I had honestly hoped last year would be different. I'd gotten my degree and we were settled into our marriage and life together, and California wasn't so far away that a visit to my dad was unreasonable. However, in November, Edward received his orders and was being transferred to North Carolina. I knew what I was signing up for when I started dating him, accepted his proposal, and said 'I do', but the reality of being on the other side of the country from my father so soon hit me hard. Our first holiday season as a married couple was spent moving and surrounded by clutter and boxes, trying to settle into a new place.

And that brings us to the present, in which I am standing in front of a fully decorated Christmas tree with a glass of wine—alone with tears streaming down my face. Eight months ago, Edward was deployed to the Middle East, and no matter how much you prepare yourself for it as a military wife, nothing salves the heartbreak and loneliness that accompanies each separation. And spending the holidays completely alone is something I have _never _done. My dad wanted to come down, but he's the chief of police and he will be covering shifts for the officers with families and young children. Aside from that, I've recently started an internship at a local graphic design company while I'm working on my bachelor's degree, so I can't go there, either.

The biggest reason of all, however, is Edward. If he calls, I may only have a few minutes to share as many words with him as I can, and I want to keep them private. And when he comes home sometime next month, I want to have everything perfect, from the house, to his first meal home, to me. Meticulous planning that I don't intend to leave until last minute.

But I miss him. _God_, how I miss that man.

I drain my glass and walk into the kitchen to set it in the sink before heading to bed. On the way down the hall to our bedroom, as I do every night, I pause for a second at one of the framed photographs on the wall and graze the glass lightly with my fingertips. It's our favorite picture from our wedding, and not surprisingly, it is not one of the photographer's shots. It's candid and sweet, rather than stiff and posed—us in a very natural moment.

Edward held me against his side, my arms wrapped around his waist as I rested my head on his shoulder, his lips pressed to my hair. Completely engulfed in our own little world.

How long it's been since I've felt his arms around me like that, his touch, his kiss… soon, I remind myself. Edward will be home soon and I plan to soak in every moment I can from the moment he lands. Then the instant I get off work that Friday, he's not leaving my sight until Monday morning.

"I love you, baby. Stay safe," I whisper, bringing my fingertips to my lips to press a kiss to them and returning them to the glass over Edward's mouth. I give the picture one last, longing look before walking into our bedroom, changing into one of Edward's shirts, and crawling beneath the covers.

Tomorrow will be a better day, and one more closer to being with the man I love.

**~oOo~**

For the most part, today has been a pretty good day. If there's one thing I absolutely love about my job, it's the opportunity to use the creative part of my brain. Which, once I get involved in an idea or project, I become immersed and notice little else—even how much I miss my husband, if only for a few hours.

Yet, it is also the artistic aspect of my occupation that made me a little nervous when it was announced that there would be a secret Santa exchange through the last few days before our long Christmas weekend. Three days, three gifts, all givers and recipients unknown. And some of my colleagues are definitely more on the quirky side of artistic, so who knows what they will pull, should they happen to choose my name.

The fifteen-dollar spending limit per gift hasn't served to make me any less nervous, either. Although the gifts were relatively easy for the names I selected. For Angela, I found a great watercolor pencil set thanks to a forty percent off coupon. She's always drawing in her sketchbook and had said more than once that she needed one, but never had the time to run to the store. For Eric, I bought another bobblehead figure of baseball player to add to the collection on his desk, and for Lauren, a set of glitter nail polish bottles.

When I return from a trip to the printer around three, I find the first wrapped gift, set in the middle of my desk. I came into work this morning, determined to figure out who the first of my secret Santas was. I know some may think that it defeats the purpose of the whole thing, but it's definitely a way of keeping my mind occupied. Yet, when I tug the ribbon loose and lift off the top of the box, and I am at a loss. Folded neatly within were four silk scarves—two white, one red, and one green.

"How festive, if I _wore_ scarves," I mutter to myself and then I spot a tiny card folded inside, but rather than handwriting, there is typed script.

_Thought you'd have fun with these._

Seriously, does no one in this entire office know me at all? However, I refuse to be rude and I smile, just in case one of the people around me is the secret Santa, so they don't think I'm ungrateful. I set the box to the side and dive back into my work, where the remainder of my day seems to coast on by until it is once again time to go home. Since Edward has been gone, I find it difficult to conjure up the ambition to cook an entire meal just for myself after work, and tonight is no exception. I stop for a burger and fries on the way home, change into my comfy clothes when I arrive and veg on the couch with my food in front of the TV until it's time to go to bed.

Tuesday is much the same, except this time, I returned from lunch with Angela to find the next gift on my desk in the same spot as the last. _Well, that at least rules out her_, I tell myself as I tuck my purse into the drawer of my desk and then open the box. Inside this one is a pair of grey, plastic handcuffs—like the ones that come in policeman play sets for kids. Not only am I thoroughly confused, but also no closer to figuring out whom either of the gifts are from so far, and there is the same square card tucked inside, with the exact same message as the one from yesterday.

Why on earth would children's handcuffs be fun for me? It doesn't make any more sense than the scarves, and then I notice one slight difference in the message on the card—there is a winky face at the end.

_Oh. My. God, _I think as I palm my face and give a soft groan. Handcuffs restrain, as do _scarves_ in the right situations. My gaze floats over the area around me with a clear "you guys are assholes" look in them—like I need any reminders of how long it's been or that my mood is noticeably grumpy at times.

Once I'm home, I start making myself a cup of hot cocoa and warming up the piece of coffee cake that Lauren handed me on the way out of work. Comfort food at its best. I just get settled on the couch with the remote when my cell rings, and my heart starts pounding hard as I glance at the screen. Only one person calls me that comes up "International".

"Hey, baby," I manage through the tears forming in my eyes that I only allow during voice calls. I refuse to let him see me cry during our Skype sessions and make him worry about me while he's over there, no matter how happy my tears are or how much I miss him.

"Hey, beautiful. I only have a few minutes, but… Bella, are you okay?" Edward asks in a voice full of concern, and I want nothing more than to reassure him. "Baby, talk to me."

"I'm fine. Just a long day, and I really miss you," I reply, blinking my eyes several times to clear them and force a smile, despite the fact that he can't see it. "Really, Edward, I'm okay. Can't wait for you to come home."

"We're in the home stretch. I'll be there before you know it," he says and I hear the lightness return to his tone. "I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you I love you before I head out. I miss you, too."

I feel the familiar ache tighten in my chest. No matter how many missions he goes out on, it never becomes routine, and my first instinct when it comes to the man I love is to worry. "Please be careful."

"You know I will. I'll talk to you soon, baby, but I gotta go," he utters in a sudden rush, and it's something I've grown very accustomed to in the last several months. Even in the short time frames we actually get to speak to each other, we tend to get lost in the moment and when the time ends, he always needs to rush the end of our calls. "I love you, Bella."

"I love you, too. So much," I reply and then take a sudden gasp in. "Oh, Edward…"

However, the line is already silent; he's gone. Only two more days until Christmas, and the likelihood that I would get to speak to him again before then is practically non-existent.

Leaning my head back against the couch, I gaze up to the ceiling and whisper to the air, "Merry Christmas, baby."

**~oOo~**

Here it is, the day before Christmas and it's something I _should_ be excited about. Once I walk out these doors this afternoon, I'll be heading home to the first of two four-day weekends, but other than possibly going over to Angela's for Christmas dinner, I have no plans. It will be just another weekend for me; full of catching up on the cleaning I don't have the energy for any other day, my weekly call to my dad, and a whole lot of free time to have movie marathons or something. There really isn't much else to do, with even the few friends I've made since Edward's transfer here heading off to visit family or busy with their kids and such.

So a long weekend is not exactly an appealing thing for me. Maybe next year will be different, if all goes according to plan once Edward comes home.

That thought actually causes a slight tug at the corner at my mouth as I head into work, hinting at a smile, remembering one of the last conversations we had before he left. It is something I have kept between me and my husband all this time, so the looks I get from my co-workers at the sight of my smile when I walk into the building is in equal parts annoying and amusing.

I'm ready to just set to work for the day, but once I reach my desk, I spot the third and final gift for the week sitting in the middle of my desk already. Very few people have arrived for work this early, so the process of elimination should be pretty easy. I remove the fancy ribbon that is far too complicated for any of the guys I know around here, so at least I know it's likely a female.

Once I open the box, I am confused by the large pack of batteries and lift it to look underneath for what they belong to, but only find another card. Then my jaw drops with my loud gasp, and I cover the box back over quickly and shove the folded piece of paper into my pocket.

"That's it, now I _know_ who's behind this one," I mutter under my breath, hiding the box in my desk drawer with my purse and storming over to Angela's desk. "I need to speak to you now."

Angela yelps with a laugh as I pull her out of her chair and drag her along behind me to the water coolers, out of earshot of the remainder of our co-workers that have already arrived. "Good morning to you, too, Bella. That was quite a greeting."

The smirk on her face tells me all that I need to know. "Very funny. What the hell, Angela? Batteries? Really?"

"Why would you automatically think it was me?" she asks, but she is also barely containing laughter. "And what's wrong with batteries? Sounds like a perfectly sensible gift to me."

"With _this_?" I retort with wide eyes, pulling the card out of my pocket and thrusting it out to her.

_Thought these might come in useful and last a while…maybe ;)_

Angela is positively fidgeting, covering her lips with her fingertips. "Still doesn't explain why you think it's me."

"You mean in combination with the rest of my gifts this week that were _extremely _sexually suggestive." I narrow my eyes at her, folding my arms over my chest and leaning forward to whisper. "You're the only one here who knows about George."

Angela loses her battle against laughter, doubling forward and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Oh my God. First of all, Bella, AA batteries are quite commonly used, especially this time of year. And second, the first thing you think of when you see them is your vibrator? Where is _your _mind?"

As she continues to laugh, I sigh heavily and mutter, "You suck," under my breath as I skirt around her and head back to my desk. She's quick to apologize and I'm equally fast to send her a smile. There is no staying angry with her for long, since she has one of those faces. It's all in good fun, and I know it. I fall hard into my chair, tossing the card into my drawer as well. I'm not so much mad as I am frustrated. If there is one thing I don't need a reminder of today, it's how long it's been since the last time I had sex with my husband, much less how often George has come into use lately.

Yes, Edward is quite aware of George—hell, he _bought_ it for me.

The tension in my shoulders and neck continue throughout the day, no matter how I try to ease it. Perhaps the long weekend will do me some good. It will allow me to unwind, or blare my music and scream, or have a good cry, and have myself composed to start a new workweek when I return, with Christmas behind me.

Now I can't wait to get out of here.

Five o'clock arrives and the project I've been working on for the last month is so close to completion, I can taste it, but it has to wait until Monday. Even my boss is anxious to get out of there for the holiday, practically shoving us all out the door to start our weekend. As I am beginning to pack it all up, Angela stops by my desk to wish me a Merry Christmas.

"I'm seeing you tomorrow, aren't I? I really have gotten over the present thing," I inquire, giving her a questioning look.

"Well, Ben called at lunch and said that his mother has decided to come into town tomorrow. Maybe we could do something Friday?" she replies, biting her lip nervously.

I try to mask my disappointment with a smile and nod. "Sure, that sounds great. Have a nice Christmas."

"You, too, Bella," she says, resting her hand on my shoulder for a moment before giving me a wave and leaving me as I finish up.

"Nope, I'll be fine. Just go home, change into my ugly yoga pants, and veg out until Friday. Sounds like an excellent plan to me," I mumble, hoisting my purse strap over my shoulder, but not before slipping the last of my gifts into it. Maybe they will even come in handy tonight.

Merry freakin' Christmas to me.

I drop everything by the door when I walk into the house twenty minutes later, stripping as I head straight for the bedroom. Grabbing my yoga pants and another one of Edward's t-shirts from our dressers, I take a shower and allow the pulsing hot water to pound against my aching neck and shoulders. Finally, I feel some measure of relaxation and step out, dressing and throwing my hair up into a haphazard ponytail.

That all ends once I get out to the kitchen to make myself a cup of hot chocolate and open the refrigerator.

"Son of a bitch! I could have sworn there was milk in here this morning," I groan, my head falling back in frustration. I am ready to settle in for the night and now I need to head back out. There is no way I want to go to the store first thing in the morning, Christmas Day or otherwise, because I have no milk for my coffee; not even creamer of any kind. "The hell with it. I have no one to impress."

I slip into my sneakers by the door and reach down for my purse, digging around for my keys. When I don't feel them immediately, I check the outer pocket—not there, either.

"Seriously, universe? Anything else you want to dish out for me?" I exclaim into my living room, finding my phone and turning on the flashlight to search inside my purse. Nothing. I swear I remember throwing them in there on my way in from the car. Did they fall out somewhere?

I toss my bag onto the chair and lower myself to the floor, peeking underneath and sweeping my hand along the floor. Again, I come up empty and sit back on my haunches to wrack my brain, retracing my steps. If I didn't throw them in my purse, maybe I still had them on me when I went to take my shower.

When I get to the bathroom, they still aren't there, _any_where. I really don't need anything else today, and the only other thing I can imagine is that I locked them in the car. That would be just my luck after a day like this. I storm down the hall, grumbling on my way to the door, really not looking forward to calling someone on Christmas Eve to come break into my car for me.

"Missing something, baby?"

I scream at the unexpected voice speaking to me and spin toward the kitchen, finding its source in the doorway, immediately falling into a defensive stance that my husband taught me. I can't breathe, I can't think, and I begin shaking like a leaf as I bring my hands up to cover my mouth. Standing before me with my key ring hanging from his index finger is a vision so incredible, I begin to wonder if I ever woke up this morning. Surely, this must be a dream and my mind is playing cruel tricks on me.

"Edward?" I whisper, afraid to speak too loud, not wanting him to disappear, even if it _is_ only a dream. I take one tentative step forward and he doesn't vanish, and my first tear falls. He looks relaxed, recently showered, in a t-shirt and his favorite jeans, and barefoot—not the last image I have of him in my mind in his fatigues and boots. He has every appearance of being _home_.

"Merry Christmas, Bella," he replies, and the smile that stretches across his face and the glint in his eyes are what seal it for me. My dreams never do justice to the real thing, no matter how long I have spent gazing into those eyes or memorizing that smile. "Please, come here. I've been dying to hold you again for eight very long months."

With one shuddering sob, I charge straight for him, knocking him back a little with the force of my body colliding into his. Thankfully, he's strong enough to keep us upright. I'd apologize, but I'm busy as I take a long, deep breath in and my arms cling tighter around his shoulders. Even after months in the desert, I can still smell the trace of the scent I've been cherishing on his clothes and pillows, that have all but completely faded from the fabrics. "This is impossible. I just talked to you yesterday and you said you were leaving on a mission."

His lips press to the base of my neck and his hand glides up my spine to press between my shoulder blades. I can feel the pounding of my heart reverberate against his chest, the day old stubble on his jaw scraping against the skin of my collarbone, and his own tears soaking through the strap of my tank top. "I only said I was heading out, not to where. I was already in Germany when I called. I had to rush you off the phone because I didn't want you to hear the boarding call. I got in this morning."

I pull back from him to look at his face, shaking my head. "Why? I could have made myself more presentable, taken the day off, or I don't know, just not been this complete mess to welcome you home. You said January. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to surprise you for Christmas, so it was just a little fib," he replies, lifting his hand to cup my cheek and I instantly turn my head to press my lips firmly to his palm. His forehead rests on my hair and we spend a moment breathing in and soaking up the presence of the other before he speaks again. "And baby, you have never looked more beautiful or sexier than you do right this very second."

I trail kisses along his hand until I reach the backside of his wedding ring, and the cool metal in contrast with his warm skin trigger a fresh wave of tears. My eyes finally open again and I turn my head to meet his, tracing my fingertips over his jaw, his lips, and even his nose. "God, I've missed you so much."

"I can see that. You really went all out on the decorating this year," Edward answers and I furrow my brow, glancing behind me.

I can see his point. Aside from the tree, I really haven't done much of anything. No wall hangings, or lights strung through the house, and I didn't make the string of popcorn garland this year, either. With just the tree, it does look pretty bland. "Yeah, I was having a lot of trouble getting into the whole Christmas spirit this year. I'm sorry things aren't more festive for you to come home to. See, had you let me know, I could have had this house decked to the nines and…"

I barely feel his palm cupping my face before he turns my head back to him, sealing his lips firmly over mine and kissing me breathless. My embrace returns around his shoulders, pressing my body against him and returning every ounce of the passion he is bestowing upon me. The arm around my waist tightens and he lifts me up to bring my face level with his, and my legs wrap around his hips. I have missed this man with everything in me, and my body is trembling with the realization that he is here, in my arms, his lips pressed against mine—he is home and safe. It is then that I truly allow the relief to settle in on me, and the tears stream freely down my cheeks to settle on our joined lips. He slowly parts from me and looks into my eyes. "I've missed you, too, baby."

My gaze scans over his face, taking in every single one of my husband's features. He is much tanner than I remember, even more so than showed through the webcam, but it actually enhances the color of his eyes, making them seem that much brighter. Yet, there is also the hint of dark circles beneath them. "You must be exhausted. Have you eaten yet? I can make you something. I haven't gone shopping yet, so it wouldn't be anything extravagant, but…"

Edward's thumb silences me as he presses it against my lips and he slowly shakes his head, never breaking our gaze. "All I want is time with you, Bella. Everything else can wait."

My fingers run through the soft strands of his hair, slightly longer than usual, and I brush kisses along his neck as he carries me through the house to our bedroom. "I am completely on board with that, even if you _should_ be going to sleep."

"Actually, this is just about the time I should be waking up," he whispers against my ear and I lift my head to look at him, finding a mischievous grin on his face. "And with you finally in my arms again, and not just a dream, sleep is the furthest thing from my mind."

My arms hold securely around him as he lowers us to the bed and give a soft hum of contentment when he settles over me. I have always loved the feel of the weight of his body against mine, but after these last eight months without it, the sensation overwhelms me and I shiver. Even if he just stays right here, holding and kissing me in this bed all night, I will be more than happy with that, no matter how much I've missed making love to him.

Not that I have even a second to contemplate that notion. We have been talking about and looking forward to this moment since I watched him walk away from me on that tarmac. His hand gliding from my hip to my waist, slipping beneath my shirt and along my side to graze the swell of my breast, emphasizes this point. The need we each feel to touch and reconnect is echoed in equal amounts with the other, and soon, I feel the air of the room against my skin as he lifts my shirt from my body.

I sit up as he tosses the garment aside, taking his face between my palms and sealing my lips over his heatedly. A gasp of surprise escapes him when I shift our weight to roll him onto his back and straddle his hips, but his hands soon make their way lower to cup around my ass. I groan at the feel of his hardened length pressing against me through his jeans and the thin fabric of my yoga pants. My fingers trail down his chest and abdomen to the bottom hem of his t-shirt, grazing his skin with my nails as I begin slowly dragging it up his body.

Gazing down at my husband, my heart is pounding harder than before, as my eyes begin to memorize him all over again. I trace my fingertip over his eyebrow, his lips, his Adam's apple, all the way down to the hollow at the base of his throat. My eyes rise back to his and it almost seems as if he's doing the very same thing I am, taking in every inch of me. "I love you."

Edward strokes his hand gently along my cheek and then moves to my hair tie to release my ponytail from its hold. His fingers weave between the strands as it cascades over my shoulder, and he guides my face closer to his. "I love you, too."

Our lips seal together in a passionate kiss, his arms circling around me to hold me against him and roll us back over until he is hovering above me again. My calf glides along the back of his and I feel the pressure of his thigh increase between my legs, and I tighten my embrace around him. I am literally aching all over for him—slow and tender can wait.

My husband appears to have the same thought passing through his mind as his kisses leave my lips and move down my neck, between my breasts and over my navel. The mischievousness returns to his eyes when they meet mine as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my pants to pull them free from my body. His moan reverberates against my skin when he presses his lips to my hipbone, finding me completely bare underneath. "You were going to go out like this?"

I bend my knees to pull my legs free from the pants, resting my foot on his shoulder and dragging it down his chest as he stands to remove the remainder of his clothing. "I would have put my long coat on, I swear. I doubt anyone would have noticed anyway, honey."

His fingers wrap around my ankle while he kicks off his jeans and boxers, kissing along the inside of my leg as he lowers his body back onto mine and hooks it over his hip. "I beg to differ. Men especially would notice."

"You didn't," I tease, but my laugh is interrupted by my gasp as he presses inside me, followed by a groan rumbling deep in my chest. My hands grip his biceps and my hips roll up to him, and a hiss escapes him when my nails bite into his skin as he fills me completely. We lie there for a moment, still and silent but for our ragged breathing.

"Damn, I missed this, too," he whispers as I nod in agreement. Our eyes close and his forehead rests on mine. I take several long, trembling breaths as my fingers release their hold on his arms, running up to his shoulders and ghosting along his back.

Edward's eyelashes flutter against mine and I open my eyes to find him gazing down at me, feeling his touch on my cheek and meeting my lips with his as he makes his first movement inside me. Our moans mingle in our kiss and my leg tightens around his thigh, my hips rolling up to his to press him deeper. "Eager, baby?"

I sigh at the feel of his warm breath floating over my face and I cling my arms around him, my teeth tugging at his bottom lip. "I've barely had you in my arms again for ten minutes and I've already got you naked in bed with me. What does that tell you?"

Edward's hand slides underneath me, lifting my hips against him and causing my breath to catch with his next thrust. "It tells me that my beautiful wife and I have a lot of time to make up for."

"I completely agree with that assessment," I whisper breathlessly and his lips brush mine again as he begins to move rhythmically in and out of me. My entire body tingles with every touch and sound we make. He feels incredible and I tell him this, and in typical Edward-style, his responding smirk is almost cocky. A blast from our past and something that never gets old.

"You are entirely too coherent," he says near my ear, gently nibbles on it. He punctuates his words with a thrust harder and deeper than the one before it. I moan, my neck arching under the tingle that turns into a pure, full-bodied sensation. I'm overwhelmed, breathless, and from the sound of his deep chuckle, exactly how I should be. He smiles when he pulls away, but my tightening grip around his hips makes his eyes roll back. "God, do that again." He hisses a few choice curses, and glides his hand from my hip to slip it beneath by back and curls over my shoulder, while the other weaves into my hair as he kisses me, and quickens his pace.

We move jointly, foreheads pressed together, no space between us. With the delicious friction of his chest against my own, along with the perfect angle of his hips and his incredible mouth over my pulse on my neck, I'm lost. I cry out his name, my arms automatically wrapping around his shoulders, slipping my fingers in his hair. His voice is hoarse as he groans, and his warm breath along my neck prolongs my pleasure as he finds his own after a few erratic thrusts.

I feel the full weight of his body on mine for several seconds as he trembles and catches his breath in my arms. After a while, he presses his lips to my chest, right over my heart before he lies on his side and pulls me to him.

"What are the chances?" His question is soft, tender, and hopeful as he rests his large hand on my stomach. I shrug and slip my fingers over his.

"Pretty good, actually," I whisper, praying internally that we aren't jinxing ourselves. We discussed it before he left on this tour, that when he returned, we'd begin trying to start a family. "I'm still in my fertile window."

"And with a husband with plenty of soldiers on reserve. We should probably get in a lot of practice, then," he said, his smile and eyes taking on that mischievous look again. His lips press to mine as I roll my eyes.

"Such a hardship," I murmur just under his mouth.

"Horrible."

"I can't believe you lied to me," I say and even pout a little, looking at him. "You've never lied to me before, and you knew how much I was looking forward to this. You coming home."

He sighs softly and pulls a blanket over us, his fingers ghosting along my bare skin. "That's exactly why, baby. The return date wasn't set in stone when they told us we might be heading home before the holidays. I didn't want to get your hopes up, just in case. You would've been ten times more disappointed if we couldn't come home after all."

He's right. I would've been devastated. I nod, curl my body closer to him, and watch my finger trace in random patterns over his chest. "Thank you. It was an amazing surprise. Are you hungry yet?"

He shrugs and pecks my lips once more, his eyebrows waggling. "You stay in bed so my soldiers have a chance to make it across enemy lines."

I giggle and smack his arm as he shifts to grab the pair of boxers he tossed earlier. "You've been talking way too much with Emmett."

Emmett is a member of Edward's unit, who already has two kids. His wife, Rosalie, was finishing law school across the country when he got his transfer papers, but would be moving here in a few months. Emmett is a riot and holds nothing back.

Nothing is TMI with him.

"Want anything?" Edward asks as he pulls his boxers up. I take a moment too long to answer, too busy admiring my husband's thighs. "Quit eyeing me like that. You have to give me a few minutes to recover."

I throw a pillow at him and he laughs as he begins making his way out of the room. "Make me a turkey on wheat with extra pickles."

"Already with the wacky cravings," he teases from the doorway. The second he saunters down the hallway, I move and place my heels against the headboard, my behind just an inch away from the cool wood. I hum as I wait, replaying the last hour.

"I can't believe you were home when I was showering," I call out, knowing he'll hear me. Our house isn't huge, just the way I like it.

"I thought about joining you, but your reaction would've been straight out of the movie Psycho." He's right about that and one of us would've been hurt in the process—most likely me. "You have no idea how hard it was not to walk in there, especially after that strip tease."

I smile at his words. "Considering how eager you were, I can imagine how hard it was."

His voice is closer as he replies, "I don't hear you complaining." Silence ensues and I know he's looking at me, and my current position before I even manage to twist my head around enough to see him walk further into the room. From the look on his face, I think it's safe to say he's not hungry for food anymore.

"Not complaining at all. Now it's my turn to need a few minutes. They say this helps the process," I tell him, motioning with my hand to my propped up legs before reaching out for the plate he is holding out to me. As my fingers grip the edge, he leans down to place a soft, loving kiss on my lips. "Mmm, that definitely makes the frustration of this week totally worth it."

"Frustration? You had a bad week, baby?" he asks as he kneels down beside the bed, bringing his face more level with mine.

"Not bad, really. Just this secret Santa thing at work that was nothing but one giant reminder after another of how much I missed you, and," I pause mid-sentence as I watch his eyes lose contact with mine and notice that he's far too focused on the bite of sandwich he just took. My eyes narrow suspiciously at him and then I see his lips tighten in his fight against a smile. "Edward Anthony Cullen! You knew about that?!"

The smirk finally breaks through and he shrugs shamelessly. "Maybe a little bit. I _might_ have gotten in touch with your friend, Angela, to help me plan out this surprise, and she may have convinced the whole office to get involved."

"And here I just thought they were being cruel. Maybe I should put those scarves to good use," I mumble under my breath as I take a bite of my sandwich. My eyes shift over to him and I catch the wiggle of his eyebrows and a mischievous grin. "Then again, you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

Edward laughs and leans down to brush his lips against my ear. "Come on, baby. You know you're not _that_ mad over this."

My lips tighten as he trails kisses down my throat and to my chest, lightly grazing his tongue over my nipple. "Stop that, I'm trying to eat here!"

My attempt at scolding falls flat as we both start to laugh, slowly fading as our eyes meet again and we get lost in each other's gazes. I have always loved how natural we are with one another, no matter what. It just seems to surprise us both that we slipped back into step with the other, even after so many months apart. When I used to imagine him returning home, I would picture myself clinging to him and sobbing for hours, or even him being a little distant at first as he adjusted. And there has been none of that. Everything over the last few minutes with our joking, teasing and chiding, has been as if we hadn't even spent a full day apart, let alone more than half a year. His smile is soft and tender as he gazes at me, kissing the corner of my mouth and whispering, "I love you."

"I love you, too," I murmur back as I turn my face to seal my lips over his firmly for a moment, and then grin against them. "Now let's finish our sandwiches so you can get your fine ass back up here with me."

**~oOo~**

**EPOV**

I can hear her strained cry as I race down the hallway as quickly as I can. When I finally reach the door and thrust it open, I am greeted with the sight of my wife with her head thrown back and groaning loudly, a sheen of sweat coating her brow. Her gaze meets mine and I watch her fingers gripping the mattress beneath her with a fierce look in her eyes.

"Did you _walk_ here or something?" she breathes out heavily, exhaustion thick in her voice. I make my way over to her and take her hand in mine as two nurses roam around the bed. "Here I was worried about deployment all this time."

I stroke her hair gently as her voice tightens again along with her hold on me, another contraction raging through her. When Bella was waiting at my car with tears in her eyes when I got off duty one day in late January, a surge of nervousness rushed through me. I instantly thought that something had happened to her father for her to need to see me to be that intense that she didn't wait for me at home. The closer I came, however, the clearer her smile was, until she ran to close the remaining distance between us and jumped into my arms, clinging around me and announcing that she was pregnant. For five glorious minutes, we lost ourselves in the wonder of the moment, holding each other with sheer joy coursing through us.

As soon as we got in the car to make our way home, however, it finally hit us. We were beyond thrilled to be having this baby, but we couldn't ignore the risks that came along with it. From that moment on, both Bella and I have hoped against hope that I would still be stateside when the time came for her to give birth. Tensions have been running high throughout her last trimester and more so over the last few days. We were so close, and when I finally got the call today that she had gone into labor, the first thing I did was to let out a sigh of relief. I was going to be there to witness the arrival of our child.

"I got here as soon as I could, baby. I came straight from work, but the traffic was horrible," I say calmly, bringing my face close to hers to brush a soft kiss on her lips.

"Stop. I'm sweaty and gross, and with no time for an epidural, I'm a disgusting mess here," she manages to whimper before I feel her fingers begin to tighten around my hand again, glaring at the doctor, who had just walked in the door. "You have got to be kidding me. The last one only just ended."

I patiently wait with my free hand still running over her hair until the contraction finally ebbs, and Dr. Porter does a quick exam and tells us that we are about to become parents. Bella looks to me again and I give her a warm smile, kissing her again. "You are so breathtakingly beautiful right now. I love you so much."

"You can quit sweet talking me. I don't care how sexy you are in those fatigues, you are never touching me again!" Bella grinds out through clenched teeth as they prop her feet into the stirrups. "You can live without sex for the rest of your life, right?"

I try not to laugh and press my lips to her damp forehead to mask it even more. "Of course, baby. Whatever you say."

Some men may try to play it tough when watching their wives give birth, while others completely lose their composure by either passing out, throwing up or bursting into tears. Even Emmett has admitted that when his first was born, he was sobbing harder than Rosalie when they heard their son take his first breath.

When Lizbeth Hayley Cullen is at last born at 6:38 p.m. and announces her arrival with a loud, wailing cry, I am somewhere in the middle. I held myself together for Bella this whole time, but as I gaze down at the tiny baby girl lying on her stomach, I know I don't have to pretend for anyone. Tears relentlessly fall from my eyes and I kiss my wife firmly on the lips, thanking her for the most beautiful child I have ever seen in my life, but still manage to steady myself enough to cut the cord.

_We have a daughter_, I think to myself as I sit beside Bella's bed, with Lizbeth in my arms and running my finger over her cheeks, her hair, and the tiny little fingers poking out from beneath the blanket wrapped around her. _And I never thought it was possible to love someone this much, so quickly_.

I had doubted my mother and even Bella's father when they tried to prepare me for this moment, but they were absolutely right. I was completely and utterly lost in love for my child.

"She's got my eyes and ears," I whisper to Bella as my gaze continues to roam our daughter's features. "But your nose, thank God. Can you imagine this huge honker on this delicate little face?"

"Shut up," Bella answers with a tired laugh, shaking her head but never taking her gaze off us. "Your nose would have been just as perfect. She's got your long fingers, too."

I slide my fingertip beneath her little hand and nod; she does, right down to the shape of my nails. Yet when my eyes move back to her face, I let out a sigh. "Oh no. She's got your mouth."

I hear Bella clear her throat and I look up to her, finding her eyebrow quirked. "You say that like it's a bad thing. I've never heard you complain about my mouth before, for _any _reason."

"On you, I don't. It's perfect and I love it very much. But on our daughter, it's _too_ perfect. I'm going to have to make sure I keep my gun clean and well oiled."

Bella rolled her eyes and laughs, shaking her head tiredly. "She's not even three hours old yet, and you're already worried about her teenage years?"

"Thirties," I say firmly and my wife palms her face. I lift our daughter and kiss her forehead before setting her in the tiny bed, and then settle beside Bella and wrap my arms around her. "I'm a daddy. Do you really expect any different?"

Her head settles on my shoulder with a sigh, followed by a small laugh. "Not at all, actually."

I rest my cheek on her hair, content to just sit there and hold her. "Is it Christmas, yet?"

"No, why?" she mumbles, nuzzling her cheek against my chest.

"Because I'm really looking forward to putting this on our tree this year," I answer extract an object from my pocket. I feel her head turn to look and the swell of her cheeks as she smiled when her eyes caught sight of it. Dangling from the gold string between my fingers was a crystal angel, with a ribbon held in her hands that read "Lizbeth's First Christmas". A tear escapes the corner of Bella's eye and ends in a pool on my shirt. "I had a Charlie one made, too, just in case, but I had a really good feeling about this one being a girl. So I had the year actually printed on this one."

"People really underestimate a father's intuition. It's beautiful, Edward," she murmurs through heavy emotion and tilts her head back to look up at me, lifting her lips to brush mine. "Just set the Charlie one aside. Maybe next year."

I can't help but fist pump at the idea of adding more to our family. We talked about how many children we'd have—three to four kids, all close together. "It'd likely have to be through immaculate conception, though, since I'm not touching you ever again. Remember?"

"Can you blame me?" Bella hisses and pinches my side. I yelp, but chuckle as her fingers soothe the area. "I shouldn't complain, since I've heard the horror stories. I was lucky at only four hours in labor."

A plaintive whimper comes from Lizbeth's bed as she stirs. There's a distinctive scent in the air coming from her direction and my sweet wife says I need to learn. I start to undo the complicated blanket cocoon my daughter's in, when the smell intensifies. The nurse did warn us. "Whoa, baby girl, what did you eat?" I playfully ask as I grab a few things. Bella smacks my ass lightly, watching me as I go through the routine of changing a diaper. I make a lot of faces, a little gagging, and a few grunts before I'm done. "Tada!" I lift Lizbeth into my arms, noticing her aimlessly nuzzling on my chest. "That's the wrong set of nipples, Lizzy."

"Hey," Bella said, rolling her eyes and trying not to smile or laugh. "Give me her blanket, please." I turn to grab it and she shows me again how to swaddle our daughter so she'd stay nice and warm, and not move a muscle. I still don't have the hang of it. As Lizbeth settles in to feed, I can't help but watch my wife gaze at our baby girl.

I kiss my wife's forehead and do the same to the top of our daughter's head. They are everything to me. "It feels like Christmas already."

Bella smiles and nods, tears in her eyes. "The best one ever."


End file.
